


Beverage Depot

by AgentSilverchase



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Alcohol, Gen, NaNoWriMo, NaNoWriMo 2020, Original Character-centric, Slice of Life, capybara, raccoon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28700406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentSilverchase/pseuds/AgentSilverchase
Summary: A capybara and a raccoon walk into a liquor store.There's no punchline. Not only are we working at the busiest liquor store in Zootopia, it's also the weekend before the big holiday. The only routine for today is to expect the unexpected.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 21





	1. Usual

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the [/ztg/ Map Project](https://ztgmap.tumblr.com/), building a story for each transit station in Zootopia.
> 
> The art in this story is by Tangerine.

Isn’t it kind of weird when you do something so often, it’s like your soul has absorbed the rhythm?

I know my routine. Briskly stepping onto the train through this set of doors for small mammals, I swiftly glide into my seat, lining up with the El Deerado ad on the station wall outside. I manage to slip through with only minimal jostling and bumping.

“Watch it, beaver!”

Capybara, actually. That pig made a pretty close guess, though.

Clunk-cl-clunk. The doors of each size close slightly out of sync before the androgynous ZTA voice announces the next station.

_♫ Next: Acacia Street._

I sigh in relief as the train speeds out of the station. That obnoxious pizza smell in Baobab Station is finally fading. The ZTA should really just stick to putting coffee shops in stations.

As I wait for my destination to come up, I pull out my phone and finally get around to that email from my boss.

> Subject: _Unity Day Weekend at Beverage Depot, Store 100_
> 
> _“Hey, you lovely floor staff. I probably don’t need to remind you that the upcoming Monday, March 4, 2019 is Unity Day. Here at Store 100, we’ll be the last BevDep to close for the long weekend.”_

Starting to smell acacia wood, I can tell the train is about to approach…

_♫ This is Acacia Street._

The train screeches to a halt and the doors hiss open, starting another rush of mammals entering and exiting the train. I continue with the email.

> _“To help deal with the increased traffic and theft risk, we’re borrowing some employees from those other stores, so we’ll have some extra hooves and paws on deck. To make sure they won’t be totally lost, we’re deviating a bit from our usual pairings. You might not be with your usual shift partner today, so when you check in, make sure you know who you’re with.”_

_♫ Next: Savanna Central Station. Connections to the Loop, Animalia Line, and commuter trains._

That’s where I’m getting off. Right as I return to my email, I feel my phone buzz twice in my paw.

> Message from Otto Vidravić: _“Yo so did u manage to get me a ticket for tmrw?”_

Oh, right. Otto also wanted a ticket to that Unity Day concert. I flip back through my emails to find it and respond to his message.

> Zao: _“Sorry about that. I just forwarded the pass to you by email. Thanks for reminding me.”_
> 
> Otto: _“SWEET i woulda hated missing ghoulborn’s debut”_
> 
> Zao: _“You’re welcome. See you at work.”_

We’re both floor staff at Store 100. He’s the otter I normally have as shift partner.

Soon enough, the scent of sweet acacia and the salty Zootopia waterfront fades. Smells like it’s time to get off this train.

_♫ This is Savanna Central Station. Get off here for the Loop, Animalia Line, and commuter trains._

I take my first step towards the door, when a… mole? Some thin-tailed rodent in a green shirt aggressively worms his way through the train car into the side of my leg, then practically rockets out of the train. What’s the rush? Fleeing from a crime scene or something?

Seventeen quick hops up the steps takes me to the surface level, out in the vast open air of Savanna Central Station. The Sav Central block has really transformed for the Unity Day long weekend. The large stained glass window over the main station entrance has some crazy projection mapping going on, with hidden projectors shining carefully designed patterns on top of the windows to make the stained glass art appear to move.

In the middle of Broadcast Square stands the iconic tower of digital billboards reaching from ground to sky, greeting everyone who comes out of the station with a staggering view of the gleaming skyline of downtown Zootopia. Of course, the only thing the billboards have done this weekend is show animations of fireworks and countdowns to Unity Day. Glamorous view for tourists, I guess, but it’s just screens.

One sharp left, only about a standard city block away from Savanna Central Station is where I’m headed: Beverage Depot, Store #100, the biggest liquor store in Zootopia.

Unlike the nearby buildings, the store is neat and squat, and is low enough that you can actually see its roof garden. Given its prime location near a major transit hub, this place gets a lot of traffic and naturally serves mammals of every size, 24 hours a day. Entering the lobby through the first set of sliding doors, I encounter a caribou hastily emptying out an ad sign.

Clarence Rockland, my boss. He’s barely managing to keep this store in one piece.

“Hey, Clarence. We’re out of stock of Dos Equus already?” I point at the ad he’s pulling out.

“Hah. Every single size. We’ve only just started the last shift before we close for the holiday!” He finally gets his fingers into the gap to pinch onto the Dos Equus ad in the panel and yanks it out in one smooth motion. That reveals another ad behind it, already loaded inside.

I scoff lightly in surprise.

“You didn’t think I’d only put one ad in the ad stand, did you?” He cackles at his own genius and taps the new ad with the back of his hoof. “With this ad up now, we’ll be going through Canidean Club like lichen on mica. Anyway, go ahead and get changed. Your partner’s already waiting for you in the office.”

“Cool.” I give him a quick wave goodbye. “Good luck holding down every size division in the store.”

“Oh, Chelsea had a hell of a time last shift getting all the stock and tasks lined up for us. I’ll survive.”

I proceed into the small mammals division, where it’s only here at the front where there’s any amount of festivity going on in the store decor. It’s just some orange and white Unity Day signs in the place of the usual promos, standing above a row of similarly colored gift boxes. Corporate has realized that it doesn’t take much to get mammals into liquor stores before a major holiday.

Further in is the domestic wines aisle, clearly in a state of disarray. No one has come around to pull the bottles up to the front edge of the shelf. Some parts are completely empty. This can of HoppsBrew Dry Carrot Ale isn’t supposed to be here.

After a lengthy walk across the massive store space, I finally reach the large double doors at the back of the small division and push through into our employees-only section. Taking a right just after, I walk past the concrete pillar with that silly workplace safety poster. “Give a HOOT about workplace safety!” says Barney the Safety Owl, wearing goggles and a hard hat.

Sure thing, Barney. (Someone remind him that birds don’t talk.)

On the way over, I pass by Otto and the partner he has for today instead of me: a red panda from another store. They’re pushing one big, blue carrier cart full of product together, off to be loaded onto the shelves. And how appropriate! It’s all cases of domestic wines.

“Sup, _Zao!_ ” This jocular otter greets me with his usual bombastic flair. With both paws on the cart, he sticks out his elbow for me to bump. “I saw your email. Thanks again!”

Bump. “I told you to have faith in my connections.”

He twists around to introduce me to his partner. “He and I are together on most shifts.”

I give a friendly wave to his partner. “I practically heard that aisle screaming for help on my way in here. Step it the hell up, you two!”

I continue on, stopping at my locker by the lounge to drop off my bag and jacket. The best part about jacket weather is that I can just wear my uniform underneath to make changing super easy. I step into the lounge—currently empty—and check myself in the hard-water-stained mirror on the wall.

Neat fur. Straight collar. Name tag actually worn the right way (that was embarrassing). It’s close to impossible to make a light blue shirt and black pants look outright bad.

But that’s enough fluffing around. Over by the office, opposite the lounge, I check in on the timesheet and see who my partner is.

Inside, I encounter a raccoon in the same blue and black uniform standing on Clarence’s desk, nervously looking out the long window watching over both the small and large divisions and the bustle within. Her apprehension fades when she hears me enter the office and looks in my direction.

“Oh, hi.” She still sounds a bit unsure as she gives me a tiny wave. “Are you… Zao?”

“Zao Tang.” I confirm her guess and climb up to the desk to stand next to her. “I’m guessing you’re Dana, uh, Ruggington?” I’m recalling the name I saw on the sheet a moment ago.

She lights up slightly with a soft, closed smile. “Yeah! We’re partners! I’ve just been watching from here, waiting for a male capybara, according to Clarence. He already gave me a tour around.”

“How do things look out on the floor?”

“Wellll… really busy?” She points her thumb back at the window.

“For sure. March 4th certainly exists.” I chuckle a bit, going over to the other side of the desk to pick up the task schedule for the day, and start to look it over.

“Oh, I got the sheet already.” She holds hers up. “We’re starting our shift doing the best task.”

I take my eyes off the schedule, wondering what she means.

“Nothing!” She gives me some lively jazz paws. “For one and a half hours!”

I look back to my schedule. “That’s a decent name for floor duty, I guess.”

“Yeah, and it looks like we already have most corners of the store covered, so we can just go cover the local beer section.”

Makes my job easy. “Sounds good. Let’s go get paid to loiter.”

We’re going to be together for a full shift, so now’s the time to get to know each other. That, and we have ninety minutes to spend walking around and looking available. I glance beside me to Dana. “What store are you from?”

“204, in Rainforest.”

“The one that keeps running out of crabapple cider?”

She jerks her head back, stunned. “Wha- How do you know about that?”

I laugh. “We keep having to send you guys extra crates of that stuff. Especially the tiny-class cans. Apparently, you guys have a tendency to run out mid-week?”

She slaps a paw up to her face. “Oh ho, you don’t know half of it.” She gives me a look of fake exasperation. “Squirrel neighborhood.”

Our chats continue like this, frequently interrupted with brief moments of doing actual work, like tidying and pulling up shelves, writing down a list of empty spots to fill up, and helping customers who got lost in this massive store.

Dana turns to me as we wander around to the local beer section. “You also got an email from corporate about smaller stores closing and the theft issues, right? Is that a problem here?”

I shrug. “This _is_ the biggest store, so it naturally gets a lot of attention. We’re lucky that the ZPD has a station not far from here. It’s right in the square at Sav Central.”

“But if the ZP— whoa!”

Dana accidentally backs into a customer. Yeah, we probably got too distracted chatting. She quickly steps away and looks back up to see the boar she just bumped into, his back turned to us.

“Oh! Sorry, sir.”

We step around the boar and continue to the beer fridges, stopping to see quite the sight.

The local beer section was a real mess. There were empty cardboard trays strewn about, shelves in desperate need of pulling, and some six-packs that were missing a can. Do mammals seriously not have the patience to keep five cans in their fridges? And if they were going to go to a party later, they definitely would be getting more than a single can, too. What gives?

Dana puts her paws on her hips. “Well, you know what happens when you see a mess inside a BevDep?”

We’ve barely started consolidating six-packs together when we hear an outburst rise out of the normal din of the store floor.

“Hey, shufflecat!”

Shufflecat? We turn around to see the boar from a few minutes ago stomping straight to us. Or, rather, Dana specifically, ignoring me.

“Look here, raccoon. I know your kind’s tricks.”

What the hell is he talking about?

“Sir?” I try to back up Dana, but I guess I’m invisible to the boar right now.

“I know you bumped into me on purpose to get your dirty paws on my wallet.” He points his finger with an accusation.

Dana leans back, away from his finger, looking puzzled. “Wait, wallet? Wha—”

“You got some _nerve_ trying to pull that right in front of everyone in this store. A lot of witnesses here, and that’s—”

“ _Sir_.” Speaking forcefully without sounding angry is a valuable skill for impatient customers. That manages to pull his attention off of her. She takes a step away from the boar. “A wallet like yours wouldn’t fit in our pockets, but we can help you find it. Are you sure it didn’t accidentally slip out?” Boars are pretty… wide. I wonder if that happens often for him. “If you want, I can also have _Carcass Jack_ to help you get your lost wallet back.”

I make sure to say his name a bit louder to call him over. With a store as large as 100, I wouldn’t know exactly where he is, though I do know he’s the one patrolling the floor today.

Even with the offer to help, the boar is still indignant, unwilling to let go of his outrage. I don’t really pay attention to his complaints as I scan around the aisles, looking for a certain wolverine to appear.

Dana sticks closer to me to quietly ask a question. “Uh, Carcass Jack?” She must not have seen him when she came in today.

There he is, coming from around the corner. I raise my arm and wave over at him. Dana and the boar both turn to face whoever I’m waving at.

If you thought the bouncers at Nocturnal District bars looked intimidating, Carcass Jack proves you squarely wrong. This ex-bouncer wolverine really announces his presence with his bulky, black padded security vest and humorless demeanor. He could make an elephant stampede stop and walk around him. He’s generally quiet, but it makes him that much more imposing when he does speak.

Dana steps aside to let him through. He stops squarely in front of the boar, looking up at him with a mix of patience and indifference. With the classic bouncer style, he speaks slowly and clearly with a deep, gruff voice. “What is the problem, sir?”

“This… _bandit-masked_ thing-taker took my wallet!” The boar gestures behind Carcass Jack, at Dana. She holds her paws to her chest.

“Black?”

“Yes…” The boar nods slowly.

“With a button to clip it shut?”

“That’s right…”

“And what’s the card in the upper left slot?”

“Uhh… a parking pass!”

Carcass Jack holds up a black wallet with a button.

That silences him. He snatches the wallet out of Carcass Jack’s paw.

“I found it on the ground in international wines.” He crosses his stocky arms and growls softly. “You may continue shopping peacefully. I can also help you find the exit very quickly.”

The boar freezes for a moment, looking between Carcass Jack, me, and Dana. He finally relaxes his shoulders and mutters something, then we watch him briskly stomp back to his cart. Once he’s out of view, Carcass Jack turns around to give a still-shaken Dana a small nod of assurance, then leaves to return to his patrol.

A mammal of few words.

Dana breaks the awkward silence with a soft giggle. “Huh. Shufflecat.” She smirks. “Well, he was at least right about having a bandit mask!” She points at her eyes.

“Oh, is that what the black fur around your eyes is called? I thought, uh, that term was…”

She’s already back to her cheery self as we get back to work. “Nah, that’s actually what it’s called. I haven’t heard any name other than ‘bandit mask’, and I’m a raccoon. I take plenty of abuse as a part-timer, so having customers compliment my eyes instead is nice! The mask makes ‘em stand out, don’t you think?”

“Wow, you’re normally part time?” I’m amazed at her audacity. “The union really let you just jump into the deep end by taking a full shift here.”

“Well, it’s not March 4th _yet_ , so I thought I’d offer myself up.” She leans in a bit more to reach a can at the back of this shelf. “School won’t pay for itself.”

“Yeah? What are you doing?”

“Drama at Zoo U. Fourth year!” She gives up and steps back a bit. “Uh, do you think you could get that one?”

I get close to the shelf and reach in there to try to pick up the can, or at least roll it over.

She continues. “Things are going smoothly there. You know, I’ve actually been finding this work pretty soothing. Like, it’s a little break from reality, where I don’t have to worry about assignments or readings or commitments with classmates.”

“Ung.” It took me a few tries, but I manage to grab the can. Capybaras and raccoons aren’t known for having long limbs. “So you came here to hide?”

She gives a quick, sharp laugh. “This is my side gig! I can’t just be reading about theatrical history all semester.”

“Well, I can’t make selling booze all I do. A bit opposite from you.” I carefully pull my arm out of the gap in the row of cans on the shelf and place the can right in there. “I need an escape from the soulless music the store plays. And I bet you know all the canned announcements word-for-word, too.”

She giggles, puts on a sweet, but sterile-sounding voice, and tilts her head to the rhythm of the recorded message. “ _Dear_ shoppers, we’ll _always_ ask for your ID _if_ —”

I lift up my paw slightly. “No no no. You can stop.” I smile a bit, impressed by her ability to mimic the voice. “My own escape is in the local music scene. I freelance write the humor columns and some of the reporting in one of the local zines. You know Eardrum?”

“The pred and indie rock flyers? My roommate has copies of those lying all over her room.”

“Yep, but this here would be the main gig. Because this job can pay for more than just coffee.” I get a bit more stoic thinking about that. “Hell, I’m sure you noticed how the union negotiated better wages for employees who work at this store specifically.”

She tightens her lips and nods slightly in agreement.

“Because only masochists stay working here for an extended amount of time. All the sane mammals end up transferring to a calmer store. That just leaves us here: the _beverage despots_ , we call ourselves.” I gesture at the hectic store around us.

“Yeah, I noticed that you guys are a lot… more lively than my coworkers at 204. I just took my manager’s offer to work here for the day because of the holiday bonus pay.”

I chuckle. “We’d certainly only be working here if we truly wanted to. Solid union work beats writing music jokes on contract.”

“Money talks, huh?”

I inhale sharply. “It sure does. Talent is for lucky mammals. The ones who get big breaks.”


	2. Break

Next up is one and a half hours at the cashier booths, the kind of stuff the lower-seniority folks tend to get. Because—I have to admit—it’s less interesting than being out on the floor. The fun things that happen at this store rarely happen at the checkouts. The action that I live for happens further inside.

After a quick switch with Lee and Art, respectively our store’s iconic tufted deer and arctic hare duo, Dana and I install ourselves in place at the checkout booth, standing back to back, facing different checkout aisles. We’re ready to take on this steady queue of customers.

Walking up to my counter is my first customer this shift, a red fox. We share a quick greeting and he places down a bottle of sparkling wine.

After my scanner beeps, just to make sure, I also ask him _The_ _Question_. “And could I also see some ID, please?”

The Question confuses him for a brief moment. “Uh, sure?” He pulls his driver’s license out of his wallet and passes it to me.

Prescott Russell. Portraits match.

February 22, 1981, so he’s in his late thirties.

“Oh, wow, I was really off. You’re definitely good.” I’ll be honest: I’m not very good with ages of predators. Maybe it’s one of those pred things that I’ll never understand, but foxes especially just don’t seem to show their age.

He laughs. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

* * *

Not all ID checks go that smoothly. Later in this exhaustingly non-stop chain of customers, a younger-looking wombat shows up with a case of beer in her arms. A timid sheep duo follow the wombat’s practiced and confident lead, catching up to her and piling on their own cases. Amusingly, they’re wearing wool jackets. Those are needlessly warm for a March in Savanna, contrasting against the wombat’s tank top and shorts.

I don’t bother scanning just yet.

“What’s up, guys?” I decide to size them up with a probe question. “Really gearin’ up for March 4th, huh?”

The wombat nods, smiling warmly. “Oh yah, yah.”

The two sheep nod along without a reply, making their jackets rustle noisily. They struggle to maintain eye contact with me.

“Since you guys are buying as a group, that means I need to see ID from all of you.”

The wombat, who was already starting to pull a card from her wallet, freezes. Her eyes widen. “Uh—”

The sheep on my left slaps the other in the arm and hisses in his ear. “Bro, what’s the drinking age in Zootopia?”

“Wh- I dunno! When I came over, Dan didn’t say anything about ‘em doing this!”

The first sheep raises his voice to argue. “What do you mean, he—”

They stop abruptly and look over to me, remembering that I was watching them. I make eye contact with the stunned wombat for a healthy second.

I grab their beer cases by the handles and swiftly swing them underneath the counter. “I’ll just hold onto these for you guys. Give you a moment to… find your IDs.” I look back to the sheep and give them an apologetic shrug.

Unfortunately, their Unity Day party starts with a walk of shame out the exit. As they leave, I turn to see what Dana’s up to.

She slightly turns all of her customer’s beer cans, grabs the pawheld scanner, and quickly sweeps the scanner across her counter.

_Be-be-be-beep!_

Noticing me watching, she twists backwards, with an accomplished smile. “You like it? I cash a lot at my store.” She twirls the scanner in her paw.

Impressed, I nod a bit in reply and promptly turn back to the next customer that’s in line.

Walking up to my counter is another red fox. The one from earlier looked scrawny in comparison to the magnificent puffball of a fox in front of me. His blue hoodie’s barely able to contain his orange fur, which spills from every opening and puffs his clothes outwards.

I ask him The Question as he’s placing his can of vodka mix and can of crabapple cider on the counter. “Could I also see some ID, please?”

“Oh ho ho ho ho.” Having some fun, he does a fake evil laugh. He raises his left paw off the can, revealing from behind the piece of ID he was holding, pinched between his index and ring fingers. “I always come prepared.”

“Ha, nice!” I appreciate his little performance and examine his card.

Interestingly, it’s a resident card, not a driver’s license.

Theodore Cuilean. Portraits match.

May 1, 1997. Turning, uh... 22 in a couple of months. Yeah, foxes _really_ don’t seem to age past this.

Address of residence is in Tundratown. That explains the fluffiness. He’s got a case of permafrost. His body just stopped shedding his winter fur once it got used to the weather there.

I look up and return his card. “Thanks for coming prepared. You’re all good.”

“Oh, I _know!_ ” He melodramatically slaps a paw to his face. The payment terminal beeps to confirm that his credit card passed. “Know what else is good? You, enjoying Unity Day!” Theodore loads the two cans into his backpack, and practically skips to the exit with a wave goodbye.

That was weird.

That fox was the last in line for me, so I take the moment to stretch and check on Dana. She’s still taking care of customers, but her line is now only a few long. I pull my schedule out of my pocket and check what’s coming up.

Alright, lunch! And I was actually getting a bit hungry. Non-stop cashing gets exhausting. It looks like we’re on lunch after Otto and his red panda partner. Looking past Dana, that’s exactly who I see peering out the window. Looks like she got off lunch ahead of Otto.

As Dana gives change to her last customer, the red panda comes over to our booth. Haley, as her name tag claims, now that I have a good look at her.

“Uh, guys, have you seen what’s going on outside?” Concerned, she points back to where she was a few seconds ago.

Dana and I share a look of worry. She turns back to Haley. “Is… what’s going on?”

“We just got a whole big bunch of mammals about to come in.”

I assuage their concerns. “Oh yeah, it’s always in waves. Sav Central is nearby, so they all show up like that in sync with the ZTA train schedule. But guess who’s cashing for the incoming wave?”

Dana submits her guess, looking somewhat cocky. “Not us?”

“Hell yeah!” We high four. “It’ll be our turn for lunch, right after our replacements show up. Then we can finally get out of this booth.” I check my schedule again. “Haley, once Otto comes out of the lounge, tell him the good news. You two aren’t cashing, either!”

* * *

Dana walks ahead of me through a relatively sparse aisle as we head for lunch. “So how’d you get into the local scene?”

“Well, some real amount of time ago, I played keyboard for an electro rock band. Friend pulled me in.”

She looks back at me, eyes twinkling slightly. “Whoa, for real?”

“Yeah, but _played_. You know, pinball arcades, street festivals, that kind of small-time stuff. We did manage to perform in almost every district at least once. We just couldn’t get a spot in the Arts Quarter, so we never got to play in Tundratown.” I shrug. “That’s a death sentence in the scene, so we just split.”

“And then you jumped from that to writing for Eardrum?”

“Pretty much. I had the connections to land a spot writing for them. Honestly, I still kinda miss the excitement of—”

“Whoa!” _Crash!_ The distant sound of a glass bottle smashing to the ground interrupts our conversation. We both briefly turn our heads towards the sound, then look at each other. Dana looks somewhat shocked, anticipating some real trouble.

It hasn’t been that long, but a few other beverage despots have already gathered at the end of the whisky aisle, admiring the mess from a safe distance.

“Yes, Art!” “Woo!” “First breaker of the day!” “Hey, is Otto on break? I think he missed it!”

“Agh. I was trying to reach the bottle of Bunner’s at the back!” Further down the aisle is an annoyed Art. This silly hare knocked over a bottle, and now his feet are soaking in whisky and surrounded by shards of broken glass. He’s going to be stuck standing there until someone picks up all the glass.

With the celebration dying down, Dana cuts in. “Do you need help with cleanup? Where’s your partner?”

“Yeah, he’s getting the glass cleanup kit. Could, uh, someone also get the mops? And a towel?”

“Sure. It’s almost lunch break for us, anyway.” Dana gestures to me and herself. “Come on, Zao, let’s go.”

The brief moment of celebration is now over and most of the others are returning to their duties, leaving Art in the puddle. While a few go fetch the “wet floor” and “broken glass” signs, Dana and I head to the back to get more cleanup supplies.

On the way to the warehouse, we pass by Lee, who’s pushing the glass cleanup cart over to the whisky aisle. I grab the tufted deer’s attention with a small wave.

“Hey, Lee. Did you see Otto in there?”

“Otto?” He stops. “What, is he— Ohh, he missed it, didn’t he?” Smirking at the realization, he shakes his head and resumes wheeling the cart over to the spill.

Seriously, someone’s going to have to tell Otto.

Passing through the lounge, the place opens up into the warehouse, shared between all the size classes of the store. Neatly laid out in rows is every shelf, every mezzanine and catwalk, and every product at every size. And being located in such a major area, there are a _lot_ of sizes in a Beverage Depot like this.

Clearly, Dana noticed. “Wow. That’s hardcore.” She crosses her arms.

“Yeah, this place is a bit, uh, bigger than Store 204. And my music career.”

The room with the mops for our size is kind of tricky to see, but I know it well enough that I could walk over there blindfolded.It’s past these three rows of blue shelves, then the only shelf that has a red beam in it (for some bizarre reason), and a right one row past that.

 _SLOP_ , says the paper sign taped to the door. This hastily paw-written sign has been here for a few years now, and it’ll only get more worn and dirty.

“All right, here’s the closet with all the cleaning supplies. We’ll just—” I grab the door handle, but the door won’t open. “Hm. Okay, I’ll get the keys first, _then_ we’ll get the mops. I’ll be right back.”

Damn it, Lee must have locked it. Who bothers locking the broom closet?

Okay, the spare key’s probably in the lounge. When I get through the short corridor to the lounge side, guess who I see on break?

“Hey, Zao.” Otto sits at the end of the lounge table, eating a box of refrigerated sushi. He gives a quick wave as he sees me enter the room and then flip through the cupboards.

“Hey, Otto. Lee locked the door to the slop.” Pulling the key out of the third cupboard from the right, I don’t waste time leaving. “Oh, and you missed it.”

He stops chewing for a moment. With disappointment, he realizes that I was trying to get into the slop room, and why. “No way, dude. Are you serious? I missed another one?”

“Go smell the whisky aisle when you’re done.” And I leave.

Heh. Otto can never catch a break.

With mops, a towel, and a bucket in paw, Dana and I make our way back to the whisky aisle to hear the loud whirring of the glass cleanup cart. Lee pushes it around the aisle, being careful not to bump into Art, who still hasn’t lifted a foot since he broke that bottle. With the last of the glass shards swept up, Lee turns off the cart.

“All good, you clumsy bun. Get the hell outta here.”

“Finally.” Sighing, Art celebrates his freedom from the bare glass on the floor. He goes over to the end of the aisle to pick up the broken glass warning signs. “Next time, you’re pulling the shelves.”

“Next time, you’re gonna be hanging off a cliff, and I’ll have to go over to save you!”

“Art!” Dana tosses him the towel as he and Lee leave to put away the cart and signs.

The hare catches it with a free paw. “Right on! Thanks… Dana.” He checks her name badge. “Enjoy your stay at Store 100!”

Dana turns to me with mild anticipation. “You hungry, too, right? Let’s not waste any time.” She gestures to the puddle of whisky with her mop.

So we mop. Most of the shoppers were smartly staying clear of our end of the aisle.

That is, until one of the shoppers, a porcupine, stops her empty cart by us. She sniffs the air around the aisle a few times. “Is… that whisky? Oh, that’s a nice-smelling one.” She laughs. “Do you have any more of what’s on the floor?”

“Well, let’s see.” Dana rests her mop on a shelf. Carefully stepping around the still-wet parts of the floor, she checks the shelf tag with her scanner. “Krallentine’s 8-Year. We had _one_ on this shelf here, but now zero.” Guess why. “And… yep, we still have some more in the back. Did you want the 355 milliliter one?”

I’ve heard this kind of conversation enough times to know that her answer’s going to be ‘yes.’ In anticipation of that, I lean my mop against Dana’s and get ready to head to the warehouse again.

“Yes, please. And thank you!”

“Great!” I take a peek at Dana’s scanner to get the shelf number. Okay, 304. “I’ll be back in a minute.” I turn around and walk over to the warehouse.

“Oh, wait! Sorry.” The porcupine calls out, making me stop a few steps from the door and look back. “If you have a 500, could you get me that instead of a 355?”

“Sure!”

I push through the doors, now once again in the back of the store, looking for a Krallentine on shelf 304.

* * *

Finally, time to eat.

When I get back into the lounge, I find a raccoon in there, sitting alone at the table with just a pack of cards and some industry magazines to keep her company. She takes out a container with a fried egg and an apple from her lunch box. I sit down across from her and plop my squash sub down on the table.

Looking at each other, we wordlessly come to the same agreement and start to eat without talking. As much as I enjoy the chaos of Store 100, it feels good to have a moment of peace, in a room far from the action, far from the noise. We just enjoy our lunches quietly, accompanied by the soft blowing noises of the central climate system and the whirring of the fridge, which just clicked on suddenly.

I’m halfway through my sub and Dana’s mostly through her egg when I break this longest period of silence we’ve experienced at the store so far. “Three hours in. How are you liking Store 100 so far?”

She takes a moment to swallow. “I didn’t know you guys talked about the _first_ breaker of the day. It really happens that much?”

“Absolutely. A lot of paws and hooves reach those shelves. Some of them are even ours!”

“‘Cause that rarely happens at 204. Maybe, I don’t know, a break would happen about once every month?”

“But at this scale? It’s just inevitable. That and a few other reasons is why we normally keep the slop room unlocked all the time. It’s also a good incident to celebrate. It helps break up the routine with a little surprise.”

“Yeah. I can see why you enjoy it here. I’ve done full shifts before, but at 204, those are really long days compared to here. Part shifts are fine, but for full shifts? Augh.” She rolls her head around in a circle. “The most notable part of those days is getting home with sore feet and tired legs from standing and walking all day.”

“Working at this store won’t make that go away. But maybe with a bit of surprise mixed into the day. Who knows what’s gonna happen next?”

“Pft. _Me_!” She scoffs and speaks in a ‘duh’ tone of voice, pulling her folded up schedule from her pocket. “We’re on service desk and sampling after lunch.”

“Haw haw.”

At this point, I’ve finished off my sandwich. Dana’s done her egg and tosses the container back into her lunch box, leaning back in her chair.

She speaks up. “So you also write for Eardrum. What’s juicy in pred rock right now?”

I look up at the ceiling, thinking of an interesting anecdote to share. “You know about Ghoulborn? One of last year’s rising post-pred bands. They’re in some drama. They were set to perform their debut studio album tomorrow for Unity Day, at the Wakefield Place Theatre.”

“Hey, Wakefield Place?” She sits up upon hearing the mention. “That’s where I’ve been hanging out recently!”

“Huh. Really?”

She picks up her apple with both paws and gets up to go over to the sink. “Yeah! They’re sponsoring me and a couple of friends.” She turns on the faucet.

“So you’re big stage already?”

She looks back at me while she rinses her apple. “Nah, nothing that major, considering I’m _still_ in drama school.” She returns to her seat and takes a bite. “We’re gonna be doing something for an upcoming festival, and Wakefield Place gave us a spot.”

“Fancy. So that’s where Ghoulborn is playing tomorrow, but just a few days ago, they leaked their own album on HowlCloud. Pissed off their label and the manager at Wakefield Place pretty hard.”

Dana stifled a laugh and covered her mouth, still chewing on a piece of apple. “That’s pretty pred rock of them.”

“It could only be more pred rock if the lead singer died of headbanging. I mean, what can the theater do now? The show’s just a day away and already drove massive ticket sales. And I’ll be there to witness it. Secured my ticket weeks ago through a friend at the theater.” I pick a few crumbs off my sandwich wrapper and turn around to look at the clock up on the wall. “Whoa, okay. Lunch period’s just about over. Let’s get packing.”

Dana quickly takes a few more bites of the apple, then tosses the leftovers into her lunch box. I get up and crumple the sandwich wrapper into a ball before tossing it into the black bin in the corner of the lounge. The quiet time is over. The noise of the store beckons.


	3. You're In…

“Whoa, for real?” Dana is excited at the sight of what’s on the samples desk, here by the side of a high-traffic path in the store. “This is what I’m on sampling for? That’s super cool.”

A few bottles of a clear spirit stand on the side of the desk, flanked by a stack of little cups. The bottle’s label is completely unreadable to me, with a rectangular, black-and-white import sticker slapped over it, saying “QAFZAT BARIYA, arak”. On the other side of the table is an insulated crate of ice cubes, a pitcher of water, and... a metal teapot?

I’ve never heard of arak before, but Dana’s oddly pumped for it. From my position at the service desk, across the path from her sampling station, I tilt my head, curious.

“Okay, Zao, this stuff is totally cool and really fun. It’ll blow your mind.” She gestures enthusiastically to emphasize her points. “This is a spirit that’s made by distilling grapes… and _anise_. Yes. It smells like licorice, which is super gross, but still cool! Check this out.”

She pours some of the arak into the teapot, then pours in some water. “So first, you dilute the arak, right?” Right. “Then…” She drops an ice cube into a sampling cup. “You pour the mixture into a glass of ice. Watch.”

She pours the contents of the teapot onto the ice cube, and the clear liquid quickly turns into an opaque white. Okay, that’s pretty cool.

“ _But!_ You have to do it in that order. ‘Cause if you do it the other way around, like, you put the ice into an already-poured glass of arak, then instead of turning white, you get a layer of oil floating to the top, which is nasty. Neat, huh?”

I cross my arms, genuinely not expecting Dana to know something as niche as this. “Wow, okay. That’s… really involved. How do you know about this?”

“Oh, I learned this from one of my coworkers at 204! She handles sampling a lot at our store. Often exotic imports. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a tray of little cups to fill up with ice, _then_ arak.”

While she’s inviting shoppers to come try out that weird imported spirit, I’m hanging around behind the service desk, the best spot in the store for spectating the mayhem. I’m up at an unusually long and spacious counter, with a lone computer on one end and a rack of seasonally decorated gift cards on the other. Officially, service desking is about processing incoming online orders and refunding products, but even for the March 4th long weekend, I’m not busy enough to do much of that. I just spend a lot of time looking across the path at Dana’s sampling station, watching passing shoppers’ diverse reactions when they taste Dana’s fancy booze.

On the other paw, I only get the occasional lost customer who needs my help with directions or checking if a product is in stock. No online orders so far. Seeing how everyone and their littermates are rushing in to get stuff for their Unity Day parties before the store closes, I’m not surprised that everyone’s going for samples, looking for last-minute inspiration.

She really knows how to handle the sampling station. She invites a passing sheep over to check out her fantastic product, then gives him the same demo she gave to me. She puts a piece of ice in a little cup, pours the stuff in, then it turns white.

The customer quickly reaches out to the cup that Dana just served.

“Wait, no! It’s—”

Too late. In one swift move, he tosses the entire contents of the tiny cup into his mouth—even the ice—and swallows. A moment later, he shuts his eyes tightly and grimaces.

“…really cold.”

Brain freeze. Poor guy.

As he walks away carrying an empty basket, I hear a ding from the computer. I go over and click to check the notifications.

Yay! It’s an online order.

Oh, this one’s fun. Forty different bottles of wine and a single gift box. I’d love to hear the story behind this one. _Different_ bottles, too, so someone in the warehouse is going to have a hell of a time fetching each one individually.

“Hey, Dana!” I try to get her attention, shouting across the path, over the mammals who were walking by.

“Yeah?”

“Check out this order I just got. You won’t believe it!”

* * *

Despite having received a lot of orders to process, no one has actually come in to pick one up. In contrast, Dana quickly ran out of her two bottles of arak, so after tidying up the sampling station and putting it away, she’s just been hanging out with me behind the service desk for the past little bit.

We pass the time while waiting for the next wave of customers to hit. “So that festival you were talking about earlier. You said that Wakefield Place was doing something?”

“Oh, yeah. They’re sponsoring us to run a show on their stage for Zootopia Fringe. It’s happening in a few months. You know about Fringe?”

I shrug slightly. “I’ve seen posters for it, but not much else. Something in Tundratown? To be honest, I don’t go over there too often.”

“Yeah, in the Arts Quarter. A lot of the theaters, and even some bars, are giving super cheap admission for amateur stage and music shows. All the ticket sales go to the performers. Drives a lot of traffic to the district. Me and a couple of friends decided to apply for a stage slot at Wakefield Place, and they selected us by lottery for one of their time slots.”

“Well, fitting for a drama student. You probably already have everything rehearsed.”

“Pff. We got the notice that we were selected last week, and we still don’t know what we’re doing! We kinda, sorta only shot an application for laughs. It— Oh, hi!”

With some secret raccoon sixth sense, Dana swivels around to look into the crowd milling around the path, then greets the hare that emerges from it. The hare’s approach puts our little chat on hold.

“Hello, you two. I was wondering if you could help me with…” The hare rummages around inside her purse and pulls out a small notebook. “Picking up this order I have… here.” She flips some pages over, turns the notebook around, and places it on the table for us to see.

“Number 84391?” I unlock the computer to go look up the order. Time to ask The Question again. “I also need to verify the pickup. Could I see a piece of ID, please?” Yeah, looking at 84391 here, I _really_ need to verify this. This is not the usual kind of order we get in the small division.

“Oh, sure.” She goes through her purse again to find her wallet. Several zippers later, she pulls out her driver’s license.

Abigail Drover. Portraits match.

Age— okay, it’s already obvious.

I look back to the computer screen to see the order details. I give her card and the computer another good look, then return her card.

“Yeah, that really does match.”

The hare laughs. “Unity Day parties have cost efficiencies to optimize!”

I’d imagine family parties for her species are like that.

“We’ll go get your order out in a bit. You, uh, have a way to carry that, right?”

She nods. “Oh, absolutely. You can just bring it up to the door. I can take care of the rest.”

“Excellent! We’ll be right back.” I look over to my right, at the puzzled raccoon. “Come on, Dana. I’ll need your help for this one.”

* * *

“Hm. Haven’t done this before.” Dana once again follows me into the warehouse.

“No orders and pickup at 204?”

“Nope. That’s probably why Clarence set you to do that this period and left me on sampling.”

“84391. We’re looking for that order at stash number 6.” I stop one row down. Dana and I look to both sides. “First shelf in, to the left, here. Actually, I think we’ll need the pallet jack for this. I’ll go get it.”

I leave her at that row and head over to the slop room again to get the stupid thing. Thankfully, it’s still unlocked.

Dragging it behind me with one paw, I walk by Dana again and continue down the row. “Miss me?”

I stick the jack into the pallet at stash 6 and give it a good several pumps to jack it up. “Hng!” Unsurprisingly, this thing is actually pretty heavy. I lean back and pull with both paws and still only nudge it out by a small distance.

“Uh, is that… the right stash?” A very reasonable question to ask.

“Oh, ngh! One hundred percent! She ordered this thing!” With a few more strained drags, I manage to pull the pallet out a bit more. “Whew. This 8 liter bottle of Batcardi! Look at this thing!”

Seriously, look at it. It’s taller than both of us. Even on tiptoes, I couldn’t reach the bottle cap.

Dana doesn’t say anything. She looks up and down the bottle, then between it and me. “Uh.”

I look at her through the clear, almost pale teal of the rum. “You didn’t come to Store 100 to _not_ see something like this! Now come on.” I shift my grip to one side of the jack’s handle. “I need your help pulling this out of the store.”

* * *

That was exhausting.

Dragging the bottle out the door left both of us tired as we make it all the way back to the warehouse. After all, we still need to return this pallet jack.

“Hhh. Hh. She’s got good timing.” Exhausted, Dana’s panting as she speaks. To be fair, I am, too. “Thankfully, we’re back to floor duty right after.”

Before we get the chance to push through the doors and get to loitering on the store floor, Clarence pops out of the office. He catches us at just the right moment to ask us a question.

“Hey, Zao, Dana. Can the two of you come into the office for a moment?”

“Sure.” “Uh, okay.” Dana and I look at each other, wondering what this is about. She subtly points a finger at herself, worried that she did something wrong. Nonetheless, we follow Clarence back in.

Once inside, Clarence invites us to hop up onto his desk and look at his computer screen. “I just spotted the last bit of this happening out on the rum aisle.” He points to the corner of the display. “You guys walked by there just a moment ago, right? Did you see who that was?”

Dana and I lean in, looking at the grainy mass of pixels glide through the rum aisle. As it turns the corner, one of the bottles that it was obscuring goes missing.

Dana steps back from the monitor and looks back up at Clarence. “I don’t recall seeing that.”

I close my eyes and try to recall what I saw moments ago. “Yeah, me neither. Didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary on our way to the back, at least.”

The caribou puckers his lips, thinking for a moment. “Alright. That’s fine. Just keep an eye on things in there.” He steps over to the office window, looking out at the small division for a moment. “And Dana? Keep it up.” He gladly gives her a thumbs up.

As we leave the office and head back out to the floor, we meet up with a certain otter who’s heading the same way. He’s carrying a mop in one paw and dragging a bucket in the other.

I give him a little upwards chin tilt. “Yo, Otto, what happened? Where’s your partner?”

He takes this moment to rant, giddy to share. “Okay, so I know everyone memes about me always missing incidents, but I _for real_ just saw this one happen. Some drunk mouse snuck in, caused some trouble near the checkouts, then…” He pauses to cringe. “Peed on my partner’s feet.”

We all just stop at the doorway.

It takes me a second to figure out how to react. “Holy crap. You’re gonna win Incident of the Day with that.”

Dana raises a finger. “So you _didn’t_ miss something for once?” She then flicks her finger forward to point at Otto. “ _You’re in_ luck!”

Otto sighs and shakes his head. “Yeah, for once.” He pushes through the doors, off to clean up the mess.

I laugh quietly in response. “Did he just miss your joke?”

Dana stops holding in her laughter.

* * *

Back on the floor, during a brief lull in the wave of customers, we wander our way around to the international wines section.

Dana lightly taps me on the arm. “Hey. You know what I’m thinking?”

“Hm?”

“You could join us.”

“The… stage festival thing? You had something in mind for me?” I look a bit off to the side, avoiding her gaze.

“Well, no. ‘Cause we have nothing in mind so far. And we’re just a group of three nobodies, so it’s not like we _don’t_ want to look for more talent.”

Hearing the approaching sound of empty bottles rattling, I abruptly divert my attention to the sheep carrying a case of returns to help her find the returns section.

With the bit of extra time I bought with that distraction, I get back to Dana with a response in mind. Her offer is kind of enticing, but I’m not sure what to expect. It’s been a while since I’ve done any kind of performance. “Well, what do you need me to do? Recommend you some wines for you so you can rehearse drunk?”

She giggles. “You said you played the keyboard, right? One of my friends is a music major. So, I don’t know, we can, like, figure something out. Even if—”

Uh oh. An argument is breaking out, one aisle before we arrive at international wines. Turning to look into vodka, where the voices are coming from, I’m relieved to see it’s just Art and Lee at it again. They’re standing next to a blue cart full of vodka cases, arguing instead of restocking the shelves.

“Look!” With a bottle held in the deer’s hoof, Lee taps the glass with a hard hoof tip, making the bottle clink lightly. “It’s made from grapes!”

“So?!” Art shrugs and opens his arms.

Lee shoves the bottle in the hare’s face and shakes it a bit. “You can’t make vodka from grapes!”

“It sure as guano ain’t brandy! Or wine! It looks like water and tastes like nothing! You’re telling me that’s not vodka?” On the other end of the aisle, a shopping beaver passes by, looking concerned for them.

Behind me, Dana laughs at their vapid argument. The two of them stop, noticing us staring at them.

Lee points his other hoof at his hare companion. “Hey, he started it. If it actually mattered, they’d change the sign to— Sorry, Otto.”

The four of us step to one side of the aisle. With uncharacteristic stoicism, Otto walks through the aisle without acknowledging us. He drags his mop and bucket, leading a deeply embarrassed red panda back to the lounge to get her feet cleaned. I’d rather not think too much about the details of their little incident. Dana and I wordlessly resume our patrol over to international wines.

Dana shudders a bit and scrunches her puffy, striped tail. “ _Anyway_...” It sounds like she doesn’t want to think about that, either. “I mean, y- you write funny words on paper, right?” She smiles cautiously, maybe in the hopes that I know what she’s getting at.

“Writing humor articles for a zine, I think, is pretty far from playwriting.” I think I do know what she’s getting at. “You want me to write a story about working at a liquor store? About a band that’s going nowhere?”

She shrugs slowly, leaning back slightly. “Not necessarily, but I think you’d fit—”

We hear another angry outburst from a few shelves back and stop in our tracks.

 _Crash!_ The entire division hears that and in shock, goes quiet. I’ve never heard the store floor so silent.

Looking at each other, Dana and I wordlessly come to the same conclusion: this wasn’t a normal bottle break. We turn back to the source of the shouting, crossing past Art and Lee again, to check on things.

There, at the far end of the rum aisle, a figure in dark clothes is crouched down, grabbing bottles of rum and stuffing them into a bag. Beside them is the broken remains of a perfectly sellable bottle of rum.

I look at the mammal. They look back at me, face shadowed under a baggy hood. I can’t tell the species, but this guy definitely has hooves. Without breaking eye contact, they grab a bottle by the neck and start to get up. Given their attitude, they certainly wouldn’t welcome any customer service.

I feel my stomach turn into ice.

We’re being robbed.


	4. Trouble

My heart starts to beat harder. I step out and away from the aisle to keep my distance from the robber. It’s been a while since we’ve had an aggressive robbery, and certainly not one so brazenly in plain sight. I stretch my arm back to hold Dana away and whisper to the terrified raccoon.

“Call Clarence on line 1. Active robbery in rum. Then call ZPD. Number’s taped on the phones.” She nods and sneaks away.

Nearby shoppers freeze, watching the hooded figure load bottles of rum into a gym bag. An opossum near the entrance stumbles backwards and falls over.

I gasp silently. A thought clicks into my mind. The rum aisle has the shortest path to the exit. Whoever snuck by earlier must have been casing us for a good spot to hit.

The worst part about this is that they’re only stealing the El Deerado. That’s some bottom-shelf taste. However, I’m not going to give purchasing advice to someone who’s holding heavy glass weapons in their hooves. I don’t really need to leave this store with a concussion or with gashes on my feet.

The clinking sound of hooves grabbing bottles rings throughout the division. I silently step back to the vodka aisle and hurriedly wave Art and Lee over to me. I tilt my head towards the rum aisle one shelf over and whisper to them. “Robbery.”

Lee flips around the bottle of grape… liquor to hold it like a sword, bottle neck in hoof.

I share my plan. “Keep shoppers away; we’ll need camera visuals. I’ll get Carcass Jack.” With their grape debate now on hold, they nod in unison and we split up.

I sigh. Crap. How am I going to figure out where Carcass Jack is in the store? I sneak to the last aisle by the wall, scanning left and r— oh, he’s already coming over from further back.

Relieved to see him, I meet him up the aisle and whisper in his ear the only thing he needs to know. “Rum.”

He nods slowly and continues walking to the front of the store. He doesn’t even slow down or make eye contact with me. This wolverine already knows exactly what he has to do, even if being store security works a bit differently than being a bouncer.

I trail behind him, staying close to the wall and away from the action, then stop where the aisles open up to the checkout area.

With the rustling of baggy clothes and jostling of glass in the bag, the robber gets up and takes large, fast strides towards the exit, pointing the bottle in their hoof around at everyone near them. The crowd keeps its distance, scared. “That’s right, you  _don’t_ want to eat glass!”

Male, given the voice behind that bellow. About 1 to 1.2 meters, now that he’s standing up. Slim build.

He spots me standing against the opposite wall and throws me a taunt. “Hey, where’s your raccoon friend? She gotta help a fellow thief!”

A gap opens up in the crowd to let him walk through. I hold my breath, anxious to watch what’s about to unfold. We’re just waiting for…

Bam. This moment.

He crosses the checkout booths without trying to pay. It’s now officially a robbery. The ZPD can act on this. Just like the crowd, the sliding doors at the exit open up to let him through.

I remember to breathe. I step out of the aisle a bit to better see what’s going on down the exit path, in the distance.

Carcass Jack emerges from an obscured corner of the room, opposite the exit, and charges down the exit path with the kind of energy someone would have when catching a train before the doors close. I can’t help but watch intensely. He winds up his arm, a yellow paintball in paw, and transfers all of his momentum into the ball for a good ol’ baseball pitch right out the door.

_Paff!_ A cloud of yellow dust comes off of the robber, lit brightly under the store signage, contrasting against the dark sky outside. The ball strikes his back hard, knocking him forward, ahead of his feet. With a sharp grunt, he stumbles to the ground and lands belly-first onto the pavement outside, dripping in yellow paint. He looks back into the store, pulls his feet in, and grabs the straps of the bag in an attempt to get up.

Before he has a chance to get his feet under him again, an airborne blue and grey blur barrels into him from the side and knocks him flat again. Holy crap! Then he—

“Zao.” With a whisper and a tap on my shoulder, Dana startles me out of my trance and I turn around. “The cops should be coming soon.”

I respond with a full voice; no need to whisper anymore. “Thanks for helping. Looks like they’re already taking care of him, though.” I point way over in the direction of the exit.

She gets up on tiptoes to peer at what’s going on outside. “Oh.”

As the smaller cop who tackled the robber gets back up and brushes off some dust, a couple of bigger cops swoop into the scene to hold the robber down.

Inside the store, the tension starts to slowly deflate, but it doesn’t completely go away. All the shoppers at the front of the store are still in shock. With much less enthusiasm and talking than before, they eventually regain the nerves to return to what they were doing earlier. Shoppers head to the aisles. The guys on cash call over the shoppers who were already in line.

I shrug. “See? Having the ZPD only a block away is useful. But, oh fluff.” I then brush back the fur on my head. “Robberies suck so much.”

“Wow, yeahhh. Haven’t been involved in any robberies back at 204.” Dana presses a paw to her chest and exhales deeply. “My heart was pounding the whole time I was on the phone! And, like, what were we supposed to do with all this glass lying around?”

“That, too, I guess. But I was mainly talking about the paperwork.” I put my chin in my paw. “Ugh. We’re witnesses, corporate needs an incident report,  _and _ the city needs a workplace safety review.” I hate you, Barney.

We meet Art and Lee, who were watching over the center of the store, and Dana updates them on the situation. “Good news! We’re clear now.”

Art nods. “Everything okay on your side?”

I nod. “No one got hurt. Cops came down on him right as he left the door. And you should’ve seen it! Carcass Jack made a really nasty paintball throw.”

“Thank you.” Carcass Jack gives me a deep grunt of appreciation as he nonchalantly walks out of the checkout area, right through this little cluster of the four of us. One paw is dusted with yellow, claws still dribbling paint.

“Wow.  _Damn!_ ” Laughing cathartically, Lee leans the bottle of maybe-vodka onto his shoulder like a baseball bat. “What a way to end the last shift before Unity Day.”

There’s a shout from behind us, snapping us out of our conversation.

“Heyyy!” It’s Otto, disappointed. He points down the path, at the mess in the rum aisle. “I  _just_ pulled that shelf!”

Art, Lee, Dana, and I all look over at the mess at the robbery site, then at him.

He only just now came out of the lounge with Haley.

“What?”


	5. Not So Usual

The wolf officer jots down some more notes before asking me another question. “And do you know if he took anything else?”

“It was just the El Deerado. I didn’t notice anything else. I saw on the shelf that there were about five rows missing, so maybe twenty small-class bottles.”

As the closest witnesses to the robbery, Dana and I are hanging back in Clarence’s office. Two police officers are here with us to record each of our accounts.

“Alright, Mister Tang, thank you for sharing this information.” The wolf officer snaps his notebook shut. “This will help with our investigation. Is there anything else you’d like to share?”

I think for a moment, then shake my head. “No, I think you got all the details down.”

“Then I won’t delay you any further. If you have questions or any further details, please get in touch.” He gives me his card. Like I do so often, I quickly scan through it like a piece of ID.

Officer Merrick Wolfard. ZPD badge number 01613. 966-173-4343, extension 613.

I look up at him as I pocket his card. “Understood.” We shake paws.

He gives me one nod and a polite, closed smile, then steps out of the office to wait for his companion, who’s nearly done with his questions for Dana.

Then, just like Officer Wolfard, the fox gives Dana his card and thanks her for her time. He shakes her paw and rejoins Wolfard, closing the door behind him. I could overhear a bit of their conversation as they walked away.

“Did you see that tackle? Da-ha-mn. How was that even possible?” Wolfard.

“Hah! You should see her at the gym. The grey bullet always finds her target.”

Dana and I still have an incident report to prepare for corporate. Which sucks. It’s a mellow ending to the last shift before we close for Unity Day. I’d probably rather clean the washrooms. We hop up onto some chairs, slide over to be next to each other in front of Clarence’s computer, and get to work. We have to write about what happened and cross-reference the events with security camera timestamps.

In a very rare moment, this 24-hour store is… calm. No one chattering, no carts clanking around, no beeps from the cashes. Outside, just the quiet padding and clopping sounds of the other beverage despots walking around, performing their closing duties. Inside, nothing but the sound of pen scratches and mouse clicks while Dana fills out the incident form and I scrub over all the camera views. It takes me both paws and some effort to use Clarence’s mouse.

She puts down the pen and swivels her chair slightly to me. “You know, I’m glad my store’s boring.” She smirks slightly. “But today is gonna give me some good idea fuel for me and my troupe.”

“Oh, the things that happen here are hardly good ideas. What are you calling your group, uh, troupe?”

“Well… we don’t have a name yet. Haven’t thought of a good animal pun.”

I cross my arms. “Is an animal pun really that necessary?”

“Well, what’s the point of a name if it doesn’t have an animal pun in it? Otherwise, it’d just be a description.” She switches to a deeper, mocking voice. “ _Beverage Depot._ Dead mammals have better ideas for names.”

I concede that point to her. “True.”

* * *

As Dana and I retrieve our things from the lockers by the lounge, Otto catches us on his way out.

“Hey, Zao. Super ballin’ that you got me the ticket for tomorrow.” He pokes me playfully in the arm. “Thanks again, dude! Where’re you gonna be at the concert?”

“I’ll probably stick around the left side. Easier to sneak backstage from there if I decide to. I’m technically a journalist, right?”

“Sick! I’ll see you there tomorrow, then. I  _ won’t _ be missing that.” He gives us a two-fingered salute and heads out.

Dana hums contemplatively as she slips on her jacket. Nights in Sav Central can get surprisingly cold. “So he’s also going?”

“Yeah, theater friend tipped me off on some last-minute unsold tickets, and Otto was looking for one. He’s been following Ghoulborn since their origin as some guys on a forum.” I rummage through my locker to get to my jacket. “Hey, it’s something interesting to do on March 4th for once. Unity Day parties, fireworks, getting drunk in public? That stuff’s just pedestrian.”

“Well, if you’re looking for more interesting things to do, why not return to the stage? Freeze your butt with me and my gang in the Arts Quarter.”

I hum an acknowledgement to her offer as I pull out my jacket. But I know my limits and where I’m comfortable.

“And if you join, know what we could have as a name? The Beverage Despots. No animal pun, but hey, we’ll have a theme going.” She picks up her backpack with one arm and swings it onto the other. “And you have my contact info already.”

I nod stiffly, still just holding onto my jacket. “Yep.”

“So you’re only one step away.” She turns around to leave, looking back at me with a reassuring smile. A smile with enough sincerity that she accidentally flashes her teeth. “Anyway, nice meeting you, Zao, but… my performance theory paper won’t write itself.”

“Alright. I’ll, uh.” I sniff, hesitating for a moment. “Think about it. Nice meeting you, too. You did good work out there!”

“Have a good Unity Day!” We wave goodbye to each other.

Now alone in the back area, I now remember to put on my jacket. The lone rustling of my jacket reverberates through the massive room. It’s the loudest thing in here.

After I fill out the signout sheet by the office door, I look over at the other things posted on the corkboard. Upcoming events, sales targets, contact info for union reps,

Time off request forms.

I begin reaching out to take one, but I catch myself and pull my paw back slightly. What am I doing? I just met her today. Am I really joining…?

After several more seconds of staring at the form, I make up my mind. I yank a form out and fold it into my pocket. I’ll just take it for now and think about it some more.

I turn off the lights to the back area—the only time it’ll be dark this year—and head out.

Maybe I’m getting too comfortable with this routine. Maybe I’ll do something I don’t do often.

🍾

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Next week: a lot of author's notes, because everyone likes those.
> 
> Also, leave a comment, you cowards.


	6. Thanks for reading

> _ Story by Silverchase _
> 
> _ Illustrations by Tangerine _
> 
> _ Editing and review by Otterly and ManedWolf _
> 
> _ Shoutout to Falke, Smug_Beverage, and everyone who followed my journey _

This story is part of the ZTG Map Project, an ongoing project to make a story or drawing for each station on the Zootopia transit map. Check out the other stories in the project, like  [ _ The Watering Hole _ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20838848) by Otterly and  [ _ South Riverwalk _ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6727384/chapters/49182524) by Falke.

I wrote almost all of this story during NaNoWriMo 2020. It’s scary how effective an arbitrary event motivated me to write. In the end, I used one of my NaNo prizes to get printed copies of  _ Beverage Depot! _

There are only ten copies of this book, which contains a bit of secret extra content not seen in this online edition. Maybe you’ll find one on BookCrossing!

##  Making of

As I developed and planned this story, Tangerine offered to draw something to go with it and delivered the drawing below in November 2019. It’s his original depiction of the Batcardi scene in the chapter  _ You’re In…. _ By the time I finished  _ Beverage Depot, _ this drawing was already more than one year old.

Starting in November 2019, my progress was very slow. However, that all changed in the following year with NaNoWriMo 2020. My productivity skyrocketed.

While chatting with Tangerine during the event, he offered to contribute more drawings to the story. Given that it was a year since his initial contribution, he was also keen on remaking the Batcardi drawing, since his drawing skills had improved a lot since the previous year. The cover and the two drawings that are in the story now all come from that conversation.

I passed my story draft to my two editors, ManedWolf and Otterly, for review before NaNoWriMo was even over. They gave me back some great feedback on issues I couldn’t have seen myself, and I spent much of December improving my story according to their comments.

I hope this year’s worth of effort—across a team of collaborators, no less—was worth it.

##  Fun facts

###  Seed of a concept

This story started off as a haphazard collection of notes about potential story concepts. Those notes eventually congealed into one clear premise: next to the biggest train station in Zootopia is the biggest liquor store. From there, I started to imagine and note down a variety of little scenes and worldbuilding moments that could happen in such a store. It’s a big store near a big transportation hub, so surely this store is far from normal.

Although these scenes were individually interesting, I found it unsatisfying that they didn’t connect together very well. After spending some time thinking about how to bring all these vignettes together, I built up the premise a bit more: the story would be about a character going to work at the store during the weekend before a major holiday, when the store would be at its busiest.

As I plotted this out more, I discovered that this character, Zao, would have been spending way too much time observing things happening and snarking about them in narration. That would have been really annoying, so I brought in a new character, Dana, to help him show some actual personality and character development.

In fact, Dana herself went through a few revisions. She was originally too passive, with Zao just dragging her around to various scenes just to have her react to them. As a result, I added opportunities for her to appear competent and have more initiative so she was actively advancing the story without Zao as her chaperone.

###  What could have been

Before Dana became a part of the story, the main focus and climax of the plot was the robbery. There was to be a lot more foreshadowing and buildup to a heist that was much more coordinated and competent.

In contrast, adding Dana gave me an opportunity to focus more on characters and less on events. Because I was spending more words on characterization than before, it became natural to talk more about Zao’s and Dana’s interests and motivations. As the subplots about Dana at a fringe festival and Zao at a concert ballooned, the relative importance of the robbery as an important plot development shrank.

By the final draft, the robbery was down to one thief taking not-so-fancy products, in an encounter with little violence. The story had become too lighthearted for anything super gritty and edgy.

###  Lines that write themselves

The opening line was the very first thing I wrote as part of the story and has remained unchanged through all the revisions. That line and the attitude behind it would guide how I characterized Zao throughout the whole story, even though it emerged spontaneously, without any planning.

I initially found it hard to write past that first line. I blocked hard on exactly how to write the next events in the sequence. Tangerine suggested I write the pieces of the story out of order based on what came the most easily to me instead of strictly following my plot’s order, which was an approach that worked well. Following that, I could move all the pieces into place and stitch them together according to my plot outline.

Despite my thorough plans, some things developed entirely on their own, such as Otto as a minor character. He started off as a character only mentioned in a single throwaway line (“Hey, is Otto on break? I think he missed it!”), but as I identified more of the story’s needs, I found I could address them elegantly by creating a character out of that line. He first was promoted to be the butt of a recurring joke, then to be Zao’s usual partner, then to be the star of a minor subplot about pred rock.

###  The names of _Beverage Depot_

The names of characters and locations aren’t just arbitrary; these names have some oddly specific sources of inspiration. Also, I just love it when characters have plausibly human-sounding names that still connect with their species. Try to figure out the pattern.

Thanks for making it to the end of my story. As a reward, here’s a hint for one of the names: look carefully at the rude boar’s dialogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can ask questions in the comments, I guess


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